Interfenestration
by cait701
Summary: "You know,Holmes, you could just cross over. Go to Heaven or Nirvana or whatever awaits you on the hypothetical 'Other Side'" "Now Miss Rowan, where is the fun in that?"
1. Chapter 1

**AN: What? What is this? No...no it can't be! NOOOOOOOOOOO! IT IS! She's back! Cait701 is back~!**

Chapter 1

"Look at the beautiful view!" My mom exclaimed as we pulled up to the semi-seaside manor. It was an old Victorian home that looked to be more than three-hundred years old. My family and I came to England from D.C. and are now living in the countryside. I actually didn't mind moving, I felt out of place back home. Home. What a strange word. It feels so eccentric on my tongue.

I have friends back at home but, I never really felt like I was one of them. I mean like, I'm the extra wheel. I guess it's normal for a fourteen year old to feel excluded from her peers. Though I wouldn't say I'm normal.

I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Rowan. Rowan McNally. I come from a long line of Irish people, can you tell? Anyway, my dad got a new job in England. He is supposed to be this representative or something for the bank he works at. He is now working with the bank on 221B Baker Street. I've always wanted to go there, just so I could see the place where the great detective Sherlock Holmes lived. I know, he's a fictional character, but that's just what he wants you to think.

"Come on Rowan! Let's go!" Mom called as she grabbed another box from the back of the car, she handed it to me saying, "This is yours. Now go pick out your room."

I took the box from her carefully (it had my chemistry set in it) and slowly made my way up the walk. Looking from side to side I took in my surroundings. On one side of me, my left, there was a forest made up of Birch and Hazel trees. On my right was the spring green hill side, dotted with horses, sheep and small cottages. The grass was a bright green, dew drops reflecting off their surface. The peace of the scenery consumed me. All I wanted to do was lie on the grass and listen to the wind blow through the trees. I reined in that urge and went through the double doors to be greeted by a large staircase.

The sound of my sister's running steps met my ears and I quickly sidestepped so I wouldn't get knocked down by the energetic ten year old. She had never liked the fact of us moving, though she eventually warmed up to the idea when my father mentioned both of us would get our own rooms. She mounted the steps excitedly and by the sound of the slamming door I knew she had found her room.

The task at hand now was to find my own room. I lighted up the steps; the only sound I made was a minor squeak on the fifth step. That was duly noted in my mind. I walked through the hallways looking for an isolated corner as far away from my sister as possible. My sister, Sue, and I argue a lot. We've shared a room together ever since she was born so we both kept bull pups.

I walked down the far end of the hallway until I was looking through a window towards the ocean across the hills. It was a beautiful view. The sun gleaming against the sea, the gulls screeching above, it was a sight to behold. I forced my eyes away from the beautiful scenery once more and looked around.

"My arms are getting tired. I need to find a room before I break a beaker."

A door creaked open down the hallway, its maple wood dirty and scratched. _How did I miss that? _ I walked towards it, a mixed sense of unease and curiosity befell me. Once facing the door, a pair of steps led up to a room above. Climbing up the steps I noticed there were etchings on the walls, all of which were formulas. At the top of the steps was another door. It was closed and I wasn't able to put down my kit when I reached it. The minute I was about to turn around and go back downstairs the door slowly opened. The room inside was not what I was expecting.

It was the most extraordinary place I have ever seen, almost as if it was meant for me. It was a circular room, plated with wood, almost like a tower. Actually, that was exactly what it was. I wasn't able to see it from the outside but if anybody did it would look like a decoration. It smelled faintly of sulphur and pipe smoke; odd. The room didn't seem to have been used in years. It was lined with bookcases and shelves, all mostly filled. The bed was on, what appeared to me, an enormous shelf, a platform of sorts, with a stepladder leading up to it. The platform looked new, maybe only a few years old. Next to the door that I walked in through, was a small mantled fireplace. A medium sized window was next to the fireplace, as was a trunk underneath the window. In the middle of the room was a long wooden table, worn with use. Against the wall beside it was another table, this one lined with peculiar instruments. I placed the box gently on the wooden table and went over to the bed. Underneath the platform were a small table, almost a desk, and a couple of chairs. I opened up the window to let some fresh air in the stuffy room. Below the window, only a foot or two down was the flat part of the roof. I was sure that if I climbed out the window and turned a left I would be able to see the car and moving van.

"Oh crap! Mom is waiting for me to get my stuff out of the car!" I turned to leave; I was almost out the door when a thought struck me. I poked my head back through the doorway and said, "If anybody is here I would like to thank you for showing me this room. I hope it's not too much to ask but, I really want to stay here." And I left. Though I could have sworn I heard someone whisper, _"Hmpht! MRS. HUDSON? It appears we have an unexpected visitor for tea!" _

"When did my books get so heavy?" I grunted as I came to the top of the hidden stairs, the door was closed. When I reached the top step, just like last time, it opened for me. An overwhelming scent of pipe smoke filled my nose… and then I was sucker punched with the strongest aura I have ever encountered. The box of books I was carrying clattered to the floor and I doubled over in pain and shock.

This is what I meant when I said that I'm not your typical, run of the mill, teenager. I can see auras. I feel them, see them and experience them. The auras that I see and feel are made up of past experiences. Well, that's what I think anyway. I can literally see life pass before my eyes. This gift I have is what allows me to see, touch and speak to spirits. Although, not without a price.

I saw his life pass before me with every blink of my eyes. All the emotions I felt, the pain, the loss, the anger, fought with the most wondrous emotions of happiness, love and kindness. The loyalty and knowledge of this aura was especially great. It flooded over me like a tidal wave, drowning all of my original thoughts and replacing it with its own briefly. I couldn't take it. I shut my eyes tight trying to block it out, but these emotions matched my own. A cry rang out from the spirit in the room with me.

" P- Please, I beg you, turn it down." I managed to get out._ He won't know what to do._ I thought despairingly. Squeezing my eyes tighter and gritting my teeth I tried putting up a barrier, a brick wall to shield my mind, it was to no avail. My strength started to drain as I tried once more, yet again to no avail. I couldn't risk a third time so I stayed where I was. All hope for me was lost until it suddenly subsided, the loss of strength causing my knees to give out. I was surprised that I hadn't landed face first on the ground, but hovered over it slightly. I opened my eyes to find that my nose was inches from the ground. I turned slightly to see a worried pair of grey eyes staring back at me.

"Madame, are you alright?" The spirit holding me came from what appeared the 19th or 18th century, he was British, that I knew of and he rolled his r's in sort of a brief drawl. His hair was slicked back and he wore a tailored suit, a gold pocket watch chain with a coin strung across his stomach. His face resembled one of a hawk's. He looked old enough to be my father. I knew who he was the minute I had entered the room.

I moved out of his arms and rolled onto the floor. Kneeling I proceeded to put the books that were strewn across the floor back into the box. Without taking my eyes off the task at hand I answered him.

"Thank you Mr. Holmes for asking, I'm alright." I said.

"Madame I hardly think you're alright I mean you almo- wait a moment. What did you just call me?"

I turned to find a startled Holmes staring at me. I held up my copy of _The Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. _

"The hair, hawk like features, grey eyes, coin on the pocket watch chain, pipe smoke, it all fits your description. What's wrong?" His eyes glowered and he snatched the book from me, swearing softly.

"This is all Watson's fault."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Now, Mr. Holmes don't go blaming the good doctor, I'm sure it was all in good fun." Mrs. Hudson said as she appeared out of nowhere with a tray of tea and biscuits. Her aura was hardly as strong as Holmes', her appearance reminding me of a sparrow or a mother hen. "Do I dare ask what he's done this time?"

"It's still being published! The cases, Watson's wives tales about our cases are still being published and on cheap paper at that! Look at this Mrs. Hudson!" He thrust the heavy book at her causing her to drop the tray, which I hastily caught before it crashed to the floor. Nobody seemed to notice. Mrs. Hudson glared at Holmes before opening the book, Holmes on the other hand began pacing the floor muttering unintelligible phrases of which I was most certain he was going to use upon Watson. I set the tray on the wooden table and brought my box of books over to the bookshelf, I began filling the bookshelf with my own copies.

"Mrs. Hudson, you can sit if you want." I said, my American accent coming back. Because of their presence I was tuned into their English accents, now it was coming off an on. I heard a loud thunk and whirled around to see Mrs. Hudson briskly picking up the book she had dropped onto the floor. Her eyes reached mine, and I swear she had gotten paler.

"Y-you can see me?" She asked quietly.

"Of course I can. I can see Mr. Holmes over there too; oh will you please stop pacing already! You are making me dizzy!" Holmes stopped abruptly, and proceeded to glare at me instead of the floor. "Why are you glaring at me?" I asked stating the obvious.

"I am glaring at you because you shouldn't be able to see us. I shouldn't be able to touch you either, nor you I. How is that possible?" He asked, he jumped on the table and promptly crossed his legs as he studied me.

"I am not certain why I can see you, or why I can touch you. All I know is that you and Mrs. Hudson aren't the only ghosts I have encountered. So, I am obviously unsurprised by your presence."

The only reaction I was given from Holmes was a quick flash of surprise. His features composed a second later and he closed his eyes deep in thought. I finished putting my books on the shelves and saw that Mrs. Hudson had gotten over her shock and was yet again enveloped in Dr. Watson's book. I walked over to the door and before leaving I asked a fateful question.

"Holmes? I am allowed to stay here right?"

"Mmm? Oh yes, yes, of course." He said nonchalantly, not opening his eyes.

"Cool." And I went downstairs to get the rest of my things.

I was now almost done getting everything situated in the room. Taking a swift look out the window I saw the sun start to set. My baby blue t-shirt was now covered in dust, as were my jeans. My black hair was frazzled from the distress of being pulled and re-pulled back into a pony tail. I had swept and washed, everything sparkling. Mrs. Hudson had helped some and was very pleased that there was another person to help her with the cleaning. She left soon after, when Holmes insulted her on her cleaning skills.

My sparkly doodads and thingamajiggers were strung on fishing line that extended from one wall to the other, making a ceiling of its own. I set my desk light towards the ceiling, turned on that light, and stood by the switch by the main light. Holmes noticed this. He looked up from the book he was reading, _The Science of Sherlock Holmes,_ and got up from my bed.

"What are you doing Rowan?"

"Waiting."

"I can see that."

"I thought you would. Ah! Perfect." The sun had finally set and now it was dark out. I turned on the main light. I heard Holmes gasp in awe, I did too. Like starlight my doodads sparkled. I twisted a few so they could spin and the effect was wondrous.

"What do you think Holmes?"

"Remarkable." He stated, still captivated. He touched one of the baubles, causing it to spin. "You used refraction, am I correct?"

"Refraction and reflection, yes." I frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"Something's missing." I looked around the room. It was starting to look like my study back home. The walls were covered in tapestries and drawings, the long wooden table consisted of my chemistry set and unfinished sketches. The back tables had my astrology equipment, laptop, tarot cards and more baubles that are works in progress. The wardrobe was filled with shirts, sweatshirts, skirts and mostly jeans. The space underneath the platform was storage. I walked over to it and pulled out one of the boxes. "Aha!" I exclaimed as I pulled out my chess set. It was in a simple mahogany box, but the pieces were remarkable. I had gotten it at a garage sale; the pieces were simple yet unique in their own way. Like the king for example, he looks simple enough but when you look closely at his crown you'll see tiny carvings of jewels and a castle. I placed it on the small round table that I had found earlier underneath the platform. I pulled up two chairs.

"Would you like to play?" I queried at Holmes.

"I'd be delighted." He sat in the opposing chair from me and helped me set up the board. He looked closely at one of the pawns and pulled out his magnifying glass. "Where did you find these?"

"Garage sale."

"Garage sale, pray tell what that is?"

"People sell stuff out of their garage for profit. You get really good bargains."

"I see." And he put the piece back onto the board. "You, my dear, may go first."

We played for hours, the game never getting dull. I was as impressed by his skills as he was by mine. I was about to pull one of my best moves when mom came up.

"Rowan what are you doing? It's late. You have a lot of unpacking to do tomorrow." Mom said as she opened the door. Holmes went rigid.

"Mom, I'm done already." I said gesturing to the finished room. "I decided to amuse myself with a chess game."

She looked around the room impressed with what she saw. She turned back to me.

"Okay, finish up it's getting late." She shivered. "Man, its cold in here. You can start a fire in the fireplace. Just make sure that it's clear. And go take a shower." She bid me a goodnight and a 'don't stay up too late' before leaving. Holmes let out a breath. I left briefly to follow my mother's orders and was now in a pair of purple striped pajamas.

"I take it you don't get your gift from your mother?" He asked. I sat back down and I began playing again.

"No I don't get it from my mother, check." Holmes protected his king and gave me a look that told me to proceed.

"I don't really know where my gift came from actually. My great-grandmother I know was a gypsy, your century I think. Her name was Rowana Erimentha. Some of this stuff is actually hers, like the tapestries and some of the thingamajiggers hanging up. Blast, how did you do that?" Holmes had gotten check. I quickly countered it with a minor defense and continued speaking of what little I knew about my great-grandmothers history. "She was the mystic of the caravan, she had a son too. From what I could find, he was a small boy that could play a brilliant tune on the violin. Actually, I think I have it; it's been passed down in my family. My grandmother gave it to me. Checkmate." Holmes stared at the board dissecting my last move and he appeared to be digesting the information I had given him. I got up from my seat and went over to the storage space.

Rummaging around in a few boxes I found the old tattered brown case. I came out from under the platform to see that Holmes had reset the game and was now leaning against the wooden table. I set the case down and carefully opened it. Inside was a piece of parchment, browned with age, the sheet music. Underneath it was the violin, unlike most, it was black. Holmes quickly snatched it up and grabbed the bow. He plucked a few strings before tuning it. Pulling up the finely tuned instrument and began to play.

He played a small low tune so as not to wake Mrs. Hudson or the rest of the house. She had been reading on my bed but was now quietly asleep, the book over her chest. I was spellbound by his playing. When he ended I was almost asleep from the nighttime tune. My eyes were beginning to close. Holmes must have seen this because he quietly and carefully put away the violin. He went over to Mrs. Hudson and jostled her awake. She nearly fell off the bed in surprise; the book fell to the floor. I chuckled quietly as Mrs. Hudson quickly put the book on the shelf and scolded Holmes for keeping me up at such a late hour. I took her spot on my bed and got comfortable, the fire gently crackling across the room.

"Good night Ms. Rowan." Holmes said as he turned off the light.

"Good night Holmes, night Mrs. Hudson."

"Night dearie." And they both disappeared.

I was awoken by the smell of biscuits, tea and pipe smoke. Apparently, Mrs. Hudson had made breakfast. It was laid out on the small table we had played chess on last night, someone had moved it near the fire place. Holmes was sitting in one of the chairs smoking his pipe. I rubbed my eyes so I could have a clearer view of this picturesque morning. Climbing down the ladder I greeted my new companion.

"Good morning, Holmes."

"Ah! Good morning Rowan! Hurry and eat your breakfast we must play another round of chess, I will not go easy on you this time!"

"You still can't accept the fact that I beat you? Well, I dare say, I must fix that!" I retorted as I began to eat the delicious food Mrs. Hudson had so graciously left for me. By what Holmes told me, she had gone into the kitchen early in the morning and had prepared a breakfast for me. If anybody was awake they would have seen a tray filled with a lovely breakfast floating up to my room. After I was done eating Holmes amiably allowed me time to get ready for the day.

Coming back up from taking a shower, I saw Holmes setting up the last pieces of my chess set. He was anxious to play. I questioned him about this.

"Rowan I have been deceased for a very long time, you are the first person that is alive and able to interact with me as if I was as well. I haven't gotten a chance to play chess in years, now, sit down and let us begin."

"Very well Holmes, very well."

I sat down and the game began. It was move after move until we were way into the morning. It was my turn when the good doctor appeared. I found no need to talk at the moment, for I was deeply engrossed in the game.

"Holmes, why does your room look like a gypsy's caravan?"

"My dear Watson, good morning to you too!"

I paused, my hand over a pawn and looked over at the latest addition to my bedroom. He was a slightly portly man, a moustache cleanly cut beneath his nose. His hair was dirty blonde, almost a brown. His clothes were of the same century as Holmes's, though, he wore a waist coat, jacket, hat and black dress pants. He also had a pocket watch chain across his stomach. He was carrying a walking stick in one hand and looked like he was about to go out. He had the air of a military man. His aura wasn't as strong as Holmes's but it was difficult. I felt a headache come on but refused to let that incapacitate me.

"So Holmes, I see a new family has moved in. Do I dare ask, what are you going to do to chase out these poor people this time?"

"Watson, Watson, Watson, I have grown fond of this family. Especially the girl over here, Rowan."

"Holmes, they've been here one day."

"Yes, but this one comes with a special feature. Watson, allow me to introduce Rowan McNally. Say hello to Watson, Rowan." He said gesturing between us, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"Good morning, Dr. Watson." Just like Mrs. Hudson the good doctor had indeed gotten paler, he had dropped his walking stick and appeared as if he was about to faint. Holmes tried hiding his amusement but failed dreadfully. He burst out into full blown laughter. Watson glared at Holmes while I turned my attention back to the game.

"Holmes?"

"Yes Rowan?" He managed to gasp out between laughs.

"Checkmate. Again." His laughter stopped abruptly. Now it was Dr. Watson's turn to mock him. He proceeded to do so by bursting into laughter.

"How in the Queen's name did you do that?" He asked me the shock scarcely hidden upon his face. Watson was still laughing.

"Simple, you had your defenses down. It was very easy to find your weak spot when you were distracted by the task of mocking Dr. Watson." I said grinning smugly.

"You may call me Watson if you wish dear child, you have earned it." Watson said chuckling softly. He picked up his walking stick and pulled up a chair.


End file.
